


Watercolor

by cinnamonsnow



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, Drinking, Drunken Kissing, Getting Together, Inspired by Real Events, M/M, Mutual Pining, Smoking, Swearing, Tooru never appears in the story but the iwaoi is strong in this one, actually I should tag it as making out, but nothing serious really, come and drown in the feels of the iwahana friendshipgoals, good guy Mattsun is the heart of this story, guys swearing like sailors, mention of smoking weed for a short sentence, seriously, slight mention of Makki experiencing anxiety symptoms, so much pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2019-03-31 16:07:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13978707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinnamonsnow/pseuds/cinnamonsnow
Summary: "At least Takahiro remembered perfectly how this all started, this whole mess that lead up to the Day of Bad Choices, hence described with colorful swear words bouncing back from the walls. He would’ve called it a simple disaster, but in reality it carried the title 'birthday party of his childhood best friend'; and of course all the other stupid events that had came hand in hand with it."The story where Hanamaki Takahiro loves tattoos, and Matsukawa Issei happens to have a lot. With a little help from Hajime, the two of them meet again, years after a stupid night of miscommunication, that had happened back in college. Takahiro should have known Matsukawa Issei was trouble the moment he walked in.





	Watercolor

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kayejwrotes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kayejwrotes/gifts).



> My HQ Valentine Exchange fic! (ᅌʊᅌ✿) I had to wait for the invitation a lot, but now I can finally upload it! Actually this is my very first time writing in English, so I'm a bit nervous;; I hope I used the proper tags 
> 
> This was supposed to be short cute and fluffy I don't know what happened?? I guess I wasn't kidding when I said tattooist au is my guilty pleasure ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) Makki is a beautiful soul, come, join him on this journey~ 
> 
> Kudos and comments are very very very much appreciated ♡ Happy reading!

You make my heart shake  
Bend and break  
But I can't turn away

 

* * *

 

 

 

**Saturday { 3:25 PM }**

Waking up never felt this awful before. Never ever in his life _this_ terrible before.

Takahiro shifted on the couch and made a loud noise - a noise that sounded closer to a wounded animal's last fight than a voice of a decent human being's. He felt anything but a decent human being at the moment, so he had the right to not even recognize it as his own.

The living room took a twist at the same time as his stomach made a huge flip - just like a bad roller coaster ride from his nightmares -, and Takahiro wished to wake up from this terrible, terrible hangover dream fast. Which was impossible, because this was already the sad reality.

See, there were many reasons why Takahiro hadn’t been to any parties lately. Tasting radioactive dumpster and chemical factory in his mouth (and not so subtly dying at this unholy hour) - was one of them, if not the main reason.

" _Son of a bitch_ " he cried out loud, holding his head with one hand, desperately searching for water with the other... and failing miserably at the attempt. His body was aching all over, from head to toe; the pain was slowly reminding him of a story of wrong decisions and all the alcohol he was not supposed to inhale that fast. This was probably the reason why he couldn't even manage to walk to his bed and just passed out on the first flat surface. Takahiro almost fell to the ground with a careless movement as a vague realization slowly hit to him about yesterday night...

Well, to hell with that, he deserved to have a little fun once in a while - frankly speaking, he didn't regret any of it -, but this so called 'little fun' was about to turn into the most unpleasant morning after he has ever experienced. 

And he forgot to buy coffee, so there was no way he would survive this day in one piece.

After some more hesitating between self-hate and procrastination, Takahiro managed to crawl out from under the blanket somehow, cursing at every single surface he clumsily stumbled into, and splashed a decent amount of water into his face in hopes of waking up properly at least. It didn't help, of course. His headache was killing him.

For some strange reason, the whole situation still made him snort out tiny laughters as his senses were coming back to life one by one. Facing the mirror was a good first step, and he examined all the little details before the final terrific conclusion: never ever in his dear life ever was he gonna drink again. Or not that much, for sure.

He looked like shit, there was no better definition for the hideously abstract creature on his head he once called his hair; and the dark, black circles under his eyes were also telling magical stories about his night time activities. His skin was at least one shade paler than the usual, but _bless all the gods,_ he was never the hungover type to lay with his head in the toilet.

Some obscenely shiny glitter was poking fun of him, still stuck to the corner of his mouth as he made a face at his reflection. His gaze then slowly dropped down to the sinful patterns of hickies on his neck, and then to another, much darker shade of purplish one on his collarbone. Here he thought he’d learnt to hold his liquor years ago, trained by the company's endless get-togethers. Takahiro groaned again, mildly embarrassed by the fact just how wasted he had gotten.

Just as he was about the leave for the kitchen for a life-saving tea, he brushed across his waist to ease the aching pain at least from one part of his body - and he froze for a second, all alarms going off in his brain. Everything came back with the speed of a lightning's crash: the freshly made tattoo's cover foil crinkled in warning under his fingertips, as a loud cry escaped his mouth, echoing long in his tiny apartment. 

 

At least Takahiro remembered perfectly how this all started, this whole mess that lead up to the Day of Bad Choices, hence described with colorful swear words bouncing back from the walls. He would’ve called it a simple disaster, but in reality it carried the title _birthday party_ _of his childhood best friend_ ; and of course all the other stupid events that had came hand in hand with it. So it was obviously Iwaizumi Hajime's fault, therefore he had to suffer, Takahiro decided, as he helplessly drank an entire cup of cold water to calm down his stomach, which was spinning for an entirely different reason now.

 

* * *

 

 

**Two months ago**

Time was flying way too fast for his liking - the decoration of the company's awkward new year welcoming party had gotten trashed out only yesterday, but spring arrived already: months had passed him by in the blink of an eye, and Takahiro couldn't follow up with such speed, not even with four americanos and an extra latte per day. With the very last petals of the cherry blossoms magic gone, he'd changed from his cosy winter coat back into the casual employee look, and now the days went back to almost blue; even with the ever changing weather following his daily route.

It was still a bit windy, something he always hated in the late April nights, but Friday also meant the end of the week, and he couldn't have been happier about escaping the disgusting brown walls of the office. It was honestly a refreshing appointment after the tiring week,  one he'd been waiting for ever since Hajime's message invaded his phone’s usual notifications, namely neverending, stressful calls from impatient clients, orders, cancellations and translations -, so the invitation was pleasant and welcomed, reminiscent of how they used to be in the old days.

It was unbelievable, but they haven't seen each other for months. Or more like " _It's been eight months, you fucker!_ ", as Hajime declared, first thing when they hugged in front of the pub near his office. Takahiro kind of lost track of time as a concept at some point, mainly thinking in tasks and deadlines instead of hours, counting the amount of sleep he wouldn't get before this shitty circle started again.

It also reminded him of his lack of social life lately - the nonexistent one, yes -, where most of his meetings consisted of his overexcited boss trying to explain one of his new crazy ideas, or the all-so grumpy team leader bitching at them for everything; at some days angry customers yelling on the phone, which wasn't even his job at the first place. Not to mention conference calls with his colleagues overseas (sometimes without profile pictures, so he would have no idea who he was talking to, really, they were nothing but poorly-drawn silhouettes, the typical grey ones, those ones, yes).

He merged into this strange dynamic of non-stop working, without him even realising it -  trying hard not stick out too much so he could avoid sitting next to the boss at company drinkings as the newly chosen 'favorite.' Thank god the spot was always taken by someone from the loud and all so happy eighth floor team.

This wasn't him at all... Not like how he used to be... Definitely not.

Guilt rushed through his whole body like a wake-up call at Hajime's words - so did the vodka not too long after that. Has it really been that long? Has he really been that busy with work and procrastination...? Has he really abandoned his friends along the way, and more importantly... has he really excluded his best friend from his life?

Hajime was not mad at him - bless his soul, he had always been so considerate -, and he felt very thankful to him. Honestly, he acted like a complete ass toward his best friend: ignoring his invitations and cancelling all the plans they tried to make. Damn the crippling anxious feelings and, most importantly, damn his job.

"Pink never suited you anyway", Hajime frowned, but it was enough to break down the remnants of the stiff atmosphere. His laughter was still the same after all these years, a familiar boisterous tone that made Takahiro smile ever since they were kids. It was contagious, it could heal one's soul, or at least Takahiro was religiously convinced so. Even when Hajime made fun of him, somewhere along the way he learned to trust this laughter that assured him that not taking everything way too seriously in life was, in fact, _efficient_. This was probably what he’d been missing so badly from his days now.

Their tipsy happiness was taking over the whole pub as they laughed, sharing miserable stories and just catching up. It made Takahiro almost emotional, and he forgot about work for the rest of the night in what felt like the first time in a good while. And oh, it really was nice to see a familiar face and get out of the monotone shit he referred to as _life_ these days. The only thing he’d been doing lately was an endless cycle of 'work-home-sleep', and he was emotionally spent and a hundred percent burnt out already.

After one of many internships (the only one he managed to finish successfully), he just ended up working his ass off as the company's new slave, something he swore on his dear life he won’t ever do, but something he still ended up doing because the money was good. Damn all those bills and adulting too.

"Are you telling me you are not willing to bleach my hair anymore? Could you possibly have had enough of the chemicals burning down your nostrils?! I'm heartbroken." The gasp was theatrical, but the grin more sincere as Takahiro run his fingers through the slowly fading color of his hair. It was getting way too long for his liking, and it was closer to strawberry blond than ever.

"Ya know, I missed you making fun of it so much, I still can't sleep at nights!”

"But jokes aside, you look like shit, man, are you sure everything's fine?" Hajime seemed honestly concerned. He’d always been the caring type without even realizing; even when they were still roommates, he had always looked after him unintendedly. 

"Don't you worry, my dear Hajime, exhaustion is my charm, it looks good on me, and I embraced it wholeheartedly" Takahiro joked, but frustrated tears burnt his eyes.

He missed him so much. Friends...? Sleeping...? Proper eating...? What were those, again?

He wouldn't let it all crash this night though, not today, no. Let the shots do that job, and oh, did they do well! It almost felt overwhelming to finally be out on a Friday night, swallowing hard on vodka and tears with his best friend - not co-workers, or an obnoxious boss.

"So let's talk business!" Hajime smirked. "Up for my tattoo yet? I feel offended not being allowed to scratch your soft little skin"

After all this time, he still used it as a joke, one that never got old. Hajime was side eyeing the empty glass in his hands, patting him so hard on the back Takahiro almost fell down from the chair.

The bartender stopped sending them heavy judgmental looks around their fifth shots anyways.

"Hands away, Picasso, it's not the right time yet..." Takahiro shook his head. "Like, I actually have no idea where would I put it on my body. I'd like wait a little more."

"That's a wise idea, don't rush it if you don't feel like doing it... yet!"

"You will suffer through sketching my very own design once I figure it out, man. But until then, I'd rather stick to thirsting over tattooed hotties."

All of Takahiro's knowledge about tattoos was thanks to Hajime, but the enthusiasm was usually restricted to where he liked them on his partners. He glanced at his friend's suggestive eyebrow game next to him, and couldn't resist blowing a small kiss toward Hajime.

"Of course with you in the front line, loverboy!"

What followed this time was more like screeching than proper laughing, and Takahiro decided that he’d mixed his drinks enough at this point. He went cross-eyed for a second as he kept admiring his friend; it was oddly mesmerizing in a way he wouldn't even try to explain. The last time Takahiro saw Hajime, he barely had any tattoos here and there to show off - now the guy was covered with the finest pieces of artworks all over his body, and some of them were obviously his own precious works. He looked strong, he looked fiercely confident and definitely had his life under control more than Takahiro did. He was so proud of him. Proud to the point he even said it out loud once - sobbing and holding onto his glass, like his life depended on it -, tracing out the lines of the beautiful forest on Hajime's hand. The night Hajime showed him the first version of the sketches crossed his mind again, and the very deep talk afterwards, the talk that finally pushed Hajime in the right direction.

Out of the two of them, Hajime was the one that stuck to his dream until the very end: dropping out of university, and part-timing his dear soul out of his body to be able to afford the tattoo school when his parents cut off all the help from him. They expected a prosperous lawyer, not an "unemployed criminal", a "disgrace to the family", as they said. The beginning of their twenties was challenging, and they went through rough times getting it all together; Takahiro clearly remembered those days when they were still living together, eating noodles for weeks, or saving money by not turning on the heat during the freezing winter. They suffered - but suffered together -, and somehow everything just got on the right track from there. It also all paid off, as years later Hajime had opened his very own salon with his friend he'd met back in that tattoo school. In all honesty, the guy - who strictly went by the artist name Kuroo, and up until this dear day, Takahiro had no idea of his real name - was one of the strangest people he’s ever encountered in his life. Strange in the aesthetic way, the literal perfect working-match made in heaven for Hajime. He hung out a lot with the two during his senior year in college... when they were young and free, completely broke but still passionate about future and dreams. Once they'd gotten completely stoned instead of studying: Kuroo explaining the meaning of life with a box of candy and duct tapes, and of course completely naked. It was golden. He missed those days badly.

"If ya' skippin on the anniversary of Zilla, I'm gonna tattoo Sean Connery's name on your sorry ass" Hajime's eyes were unfocused a little, but he still managed to glare at Takahiro all serious.

"Sir! Sir Sean Connery...."

"Whatever" he sighed. "It's been a whole freakin year of our baby standing strong and steady, giving people hope and art for eternity! And also of us not going bankrupt, so..."

The glorious _Zilla_ was Hajime's firstborn child, with the lamest name in history, from the one and only Godzilla, obviously. Kuroo had no objection against avoiding copyright issues this way, but he refused to publicly acknowledge the backstory. Takahiro envied them so much. He still hasn't figured out his _Big Life Goal_ , everyone was “supposed to…” Or maybe he was just not as brave as his friends. Both option sounded terrible in his head.

"I would never miss it for the world, man. I promise!" It was no time for thoughts of this trainwreck. "Can I also meet this mysterious boyfriend of yours finally?"

"You know him, dude. It's the same guy, from university..." Hajime chuckled, he actually chuckled, and Takakiro's eyes widened in realization. "We've been together for more than a year now."

"You shitting me!" Takahiro choked on his beer. "The one who got you interested in volleyball so we had to go to those matches every weekend?" He got a small nod as an answer.

"The one who _shamelessly_ flirted with you in psychology and... and hey, wait, before you left, the two of you made out at the club, but never-called-you-after that guy, Tooru?!" Another nod. "Holy shit, plottwist, that's dope..."

A loud hiccup escaped Takahiro's lips. He felt so lonely these days, it was not even funny anymore. The 'strong and independent working man' mask stopped working somewhere along the way of crazy shifts, and he was just exhausted and all alone at the end of the day. It was serious to the point of him desperately marathoning Bridget Jones's Diary all night long, every single weekend. He would have never admitted crying over specific parts either.

"Well, what can I say, I'm pretty charming myself. But long story short..." Hajime blinked twice, and took the last shot instead of explaining. "I'm convinced that his team will pass the Quarter-finals, so they go straight to Semi-finals and I don't think he will have time to come back only for that, but we'll see..."

So sadly Takahiro never actually got to listen to the story of his best friend getting together with the _biggest_ crush in the history of crushing.

"I'm happy for you" he nodded, very much impressed but almost crashing into the bowl of popcorn in front of him with the heavy gesture.

 "By the way, ready to hear about our new lovely coworker?" Hajime asked with a suspicious smile. "You can thirst after him as much as you want!"

"It’s the guy whom you couldn't shut up about during school, isn't it?"

"So up to date!" Hajime laughed, nudging Takahiro hard next to him. "He came back to town at the beginning of the year, and finally, finally joined us, after all my pathetic begging. My aesthetic is tingling ever since!”

"Okay, hold your horses, big guy. What's so good about him again?"

"Come on now, you've met him before, too. At Shigeru's birthday...?"

"You mean like a hundred million years ago? How the hell should I re-"

"Genius talent, with God gifted hands! Tall, messy hair, pokerfa-"

"Oh, Eyebrows..." Takahiro shifted uncomfortably. "Yeah, geeky guy with the lame jokes, huge glasses and unholy taste in fashion. God that night was awkward..."

"You were awkward, not him" Hajime furrowed his eyebrows knowingly. "The finals always got the worst of you back then, and you happened to unleash it at a wrong time, dude."

"Well, we only met once, who cares" Takahiro shrugged with his best affronted pout. "Sorry I was not all over him like everyone!"

"Just wait for it....", Hajime went silent for a moment before he snorted, loud and oddly satisfied. "Just wait for it, my friend..."

 

* * *

 

 

**Three weeks ago - The Dragon**

Meeting and catching up with Hajime was a turning point, honestly; a fresh start in his life, like a shooting star in the night sky, like the oasis in a desert after a long walk... or whatever. Takahiro didn't feel ashamed describing this feeling so cheesily, since he kind of had a proper life again. The change was slow, but it was definitely there.

Small things made up these differences, like checking on his phone regularly for texts. Well, only when hiding in the bathroom was manageable, or during his well deserved smoke-breaks, which apparently were the only acceptable form of actually taking a break at the company. More importantly, making plans with his friend was possible again, and he really paid all his attention on matching their schedule at every chance; although he was still sleep deprived and very much low on the emotional rollercoaster ride.

The first time when he had agreed on joining Hajime and his other friends on their regular "Friday Night Meeting At The Pub" was also a life changing event he wouldn’t ever forget. He had been very excited for days and he was proud of himself that night, too: at the very last minute he felt like cancelling it all to just roll up into a blanket burrito instead, but this time, he managed to win against the subtle pain in his chest. And of course he ended up having the best time of his life.

 

This time more new people gathered together from this huge group of artists that Hajime knew, and suddenly it really felt like back in university days, where Takahiro, too, had been the center of parties, outgoing, a real free spirit, constantly cracking jokes and having fun. This position now was taken by Kuroo's oldest friend, Bokuto Koutarou, who also just happened to be the owner of the pub they frequented, and who was literally the happiest person on Earth he has ever met.

The anniversary of the Zilla turned out to be a bigger event than he expected. Not only friends and colleagues showed up, but even old customers came together to celebrate with them. The whole party made Hajime very emotional; but also required him and Kuroo running around all night long, trying to talk with everyone. Instead of awkwardly standing alone with a bottle of beer, Takahiro joined Shigeru in darts (who was doing his second master’s degree, and was almost as excited to see him again as Kuroo), along with the calm and quiet Keiji (famous for sharp aim in darts, soft lettering in tattoos; and who apparently also had a finally finished, full watercolor back tattoo, which they didn't get to see at the end.) Takahiro managed to win not only once, but at least three times against the latter as well.

Okay, so his luck in aiming probably only worked for darts, because honestly, he was not all that good with the stupid cups. It had a lot to do with the fact that he has never tried beer pong in his life before, and half of the time he was busy running after the ball. After several rounds of hysterical laughing, he gave up and excused himself to sit down a little.

And then it happened.

At first, only their eyes locked across the bar, Takahiro swore his heart skipped a whole beat at the sight, which felt weird and astonishing at the same time. All his senses drowned in the terrific realization that he was looking right at Matsukawa Issei, that guy whom he haven't seen in years, and who now also seemed to recognize him for some strange reason as well. _Was it the hair? Probably the hair... Please let it be the hair only -_ he thought. He owed the guy an apology badly.

Now that he thought about it again, Takahiro had to admit how harsh he had judged him. As Hajime mentioned, the finals got the worst of him at that time, and on the other hand, he was not at the very best place in his life either, which was obviously not an acceptable excuse in this case. He wondered if Matsukawa Issei remembered meeting him at all,  but an anxious, over sensitive mess, was probably hard to forget. He was embarrassed by the person he was back then, years ago, but thankfully he had changed a lot since then, and now he just wanted to slap himself right in the face.

Up until one point, Takahiro considered himself very lucky with his life, as it was ordinary in the terms of balanced comfort and happiness; he loved his mother who supported him in everything he decided; he got through the educational chaos of high school and even entered college; he also never actually made too big of a drama about coming out either. On the other hand, the low self-esteem Takahiro had struggled with for years was a completely different story, and being the center of attention had always been a defensive attitude of his. “ _Life at last begins to make sense, when you are open and honest_ ” used to be one of the posters on their “wise-wall” in the kitchen, so facing these problems one by one solved most of the struggles. Poor Matsukawa Issei was at a wrong place with an extremely shitty-timed joke, a joke he couldn't even remember anymore, only the bittersweet taste of his own attitude left in Takahiro's mouth. He blew him off without even trying to get to know Issei in the first place. Who would have thought that that guy wasn't just a random classmate of Hajime's: his best friend gave his all in convincing Issei about opening the shop together with him and Kuroo.

Takahiro did not consider himself a shallow person, but still he had to double think about everything in his life so far as he stared at the guy across the bar. He gulped hard and looked for Hajime desperately, but of course he was nowhere to be seen. Hiding behind his bottle didn't help either. He had to glance back again.

Was he... _smiling_.. at him? It almost looked like he was actually waiting for this moment to happen and this thought left Takahiro with a list of doubts. Because why the hell would he? This guy right there was definitely the same Matsukawa Issei Takahiro had met back then, those stupid eyebrows still had the magic going on; but even with his best efforts to stay unbiased, Takahiro could only describe him as a literal god walking on Earth. Again, Takahiro was not a shallow person, but he looked so handsome just casually sitting right in front of his eyes, it was almost upsetting; the memory of the the tall, awkward guy who tried to flirt with him so badly that night got repainted immediately.

Issei had built up impressive muscles through the years too, it wasn't hard to trace them under the smooth coverage of that grey turtleneck: broad shoulders and strong arms caught Takahiro's attention as he turned in his direction now, and without breaking eye contact too. He looked so mature and calm, an effortless charm vibrating around him that made time stop around them for a second. He changed his glasses too - holy shit -, and his hair was tied up in a small, messy ponytail; a fresh kink of his, as Takahiro just found out lately.

The corner of his lips turned upwards a little again, and now Issei was clearly smiling at him, then dipped his head to the side as he raised his shot to his direction. Even from this distance Takahiro recognised the dragon waving on his forearm in between the sharp lines of burning flames - it was one of Hajime's first and greatest designs he had ever drawn.

Unholy realization grabbed him by the shoulder there, and Takahiro literally couldn't look away from him, not even after Issei walked past him to disappear into the crowd - and he was still thinking about him later when he got home, despite not speaking a single word to the guy during the whole night.

 

* * *

 

 

**Two weeks ago - Roses**

Okay, karma was a bitch, honestly.

It's not like Takahiro was planning it for _days_ , really. It just happened to be... well, happened like the way it happened somehow. He even gave up on his precious lunch break to sneak out of the company, and took the first bus to Hajime's salon as fast as he could.

Of all days, obviously he managed to chose the one where Issei was out of town to buy new equipments and some airbrush shit for their workshop.

Damn his luck and the plan of “accidentally running into Issei again” which, so far, didn't go too well.

 

Friday came along, and Takahiro had way to much overtime work, he almost had to cancel every plan. This time it was Koutarou himself who insisted on inviting him to the pub again, so the excitement won over the tiredness: first he pulled an all-nighter on Thursday, and willingly went to the company earlier the next morning. During all his smoke breaks, he thought about the casual clothes hiding in his bag; suddenly coffee tasted less bitter and energy rushed through his body with every drag. He willingly skipped lunch to sleep a bit on his desk.

Night Owl was way busier than the last time he visited, and a DJ made the crowd go crazy with her live tonight; they were constantly screaming drunk song verses while jumping; it felt like a tiny earthquake, like the whole place was shaking under his feet as he arrived.  

"Good to see you out of that goddamn suit, man" Hajime grinned at him, but this time it was Kentarou (the team's motion art graduate), who shoved the first beer into his hand as a way of saying hi. Takahiro never felt so welcomed in a new group in his life.

"Pool?"

"Pool. I'll pay the first round!" Hajime patted him on the shoulder, dragging Takahiro all the way through the sea of people drowning in the music and lively atmosphere that was not so unfamiliar for him anymore.

"Dude, you came!! Drink it up!!" Koutarou screamed across the bar, clinging onto Kuroo on his left, and a not so impressed Keiji on the other side, who obviously missed his next shot on the darts table because of this. "Hey, Issei, drag your ass here fast, I bet you still can't win against Hajime!"

Takahiro’s stomach dropped a little at the name. It wasn’t like he didn't expect him to be here, and it definitely wasn’t like he deliberately prepared for it at all. He may or may not have checked himself twice in the mirror before leaving the company - suddenly a little conscious about his shapes in these pants -, a routine he lost around the intern period, but old habits die hard, so all honesty: it felt so freakin good winking at his reflection.

"How generous of you, Koutarou, free beer for me, you said?" Issei's voice was deep and gentle despite the teasing, and with a pleased half smile, he joined the table. "Hey, loser!"

"In your dreams, man!" Hajime rolled his eyes, clapping into his hand with a wide grin. "You know I'm invincible. Oh, by the way, this is Hanamaki Takahiro, I don't thi-"

"Yeah, the ' _actively helping me crying over Tooru every day because I'm too pathetic to finally ask him out_ ' Hanamaki Takahiro, I remember" Issei grinned, his glance already slipping to Takahiro to check him out shamelessly from head to toe, to which Takahiro answered with a stiff wave, praying for all the gods to open the ground under his feet.

Thankfully it never happened though, as the game turned out to be very intense and, well... very interfering in the form of a loose shirt that Issei had on tonight. At first he only listened to their conversation, cracking up all the time, because honestly they were hilarious together and it wasn't as awkward as he had thought. At one point, Hajime excused himself for a phone call from Tooru, who was now away for the tournament's Final in another region, but Takahiro had the feeling this was planned all along. Hajime always knew... he just knew everything and suddenly their first conversation made much more sense.

Everytime Issei leaned forward for the next respective shot, Takahiro couldn't stop staring, not even in a subtle way: just drinking in the soft lines of the tattoo across Issei's chest - roses, dark red, in the shadow of the damn shirt -, and he barely had any mind left to answer his questions properly,  in a conversation he didn't even realize they were having, without a break and for hours now. 

 

* * *

 

**Two weeks ago, Sunday - Wave**

Yeah, okay, he couldn't work as precisely this week, because he had so much going on in his mind. So what? Having exciting thoughts was something very new and refreshing, almost like breaking some rules - he felt so alive and very wild. New interns arrived anyway, so maybe it was time for him to take a little break - a well deserved break from the past year's stress. Those breaks occasionally consisted of sneaking out from the company to drop by the Zilla and eating lunch with the guys; but most importantly, usually included heavy thoughts of the awesome chat he had with Issei at the Night Owl last time, when the ice finally broke between them. Although it seemed only Takahiro himself had this wall around him and Issei had no problem breaking it all down piece by piece. It turned out they had so much more in common than what he thought at first - from liking the same TV shows to having the exact same Tumblr reblogs -, and he very much enjoyed his jokes even without Hajime as his counterpart. Issei was approachable and friendly, and even his lame jokes somehow made their way to his heart now; it was an upgraded version of their last-first meeting, more like a better second impression. Or maybe... maybe Takahiro was on the right track with his life finally.

Not even for one second did he judge Hajime's smug face when he found Takahiro and Issei in the backyard of the Night Owl much later - smoking and laughing together instead of playing -, obviously noticing the subtle flirting between them but not saying a word.

 

He should have known Matsukawa Issei was trouble the moment he walked in.

Actually this time it was Takahiro who walked in on him with his pants down, and for a second he forgot how to breathe. It was very confusing, but eye catching at the same time.

"I think the fuck not, Mattsun, get down from my table!" Kuroo roared, shooing Issei away in a failed attempt, since the latter had the advantage of not being busy cleaning his machine.

"Come on dude, it needs a retouch, you know I can't do it myself? For obvious reasons!?" Issei retorted, gently patting himself on his butt before climbing down as he was told.

"Oh, hey, come on in, have a seat!" he flashed a huge grin at Takahiro over his shoulders, barely covering himself up with a hand.

Takahiro's attention almost wandered off to the land of sinful thoughts, but the whole situation - with Kuroo cursing under his breath and Issei actually pouting - looked so hilarious, he just lost it right on the spot and burst out laughing so hard he actually teared up.

"Why the hell do you even have _The_ _Great Wave off Kanagawa_ tattooed on your ass?!" his voice cracked between breaths and went high pitched at the end. He had to flop down next to Hajime who gave him a commiserating pat on the back, looking unimpressed as well.

"You see, Hiro, my dear friend, this guy here, he is an artist or whatnot..." Kuroo draw two quotation marks into the air, "... and that disaster happens when you lose a bet!"

"Excuse me for praising traditional art, you uncultured swine", Issei made a theatrical little gasp, finally pulling his briefs back on, before turning in his direction. "Don't even listen to him, it was fully my decision and I never regretted it ever since then!”

"Chill, would never question you, man!" Takahiro smirked back at him, and somehow couldn't help but steal a little glance again. Not much was left to his imagination anyways.

"We are not talking about it!" Kuroo made another dismissive face, and Takahiro was genuinely dying from curiosity now.

"You won't understand real pain", Hajime added with a light shrug "until this dumbass is ripping off your skin during getting tattooed on his butt."

"Ouch, well, I figured it would hurt, though..." Takahiro grimaced.

"Hell no, that tattoo was basically licked on by teeny-tiny kittens" Kuroo's traumatized snort left the impression of a huge story behind it. "His ticklish behind just couldn't handle such overwhelming stress!"

"Basically he couldn't stop laughing and tore us apart trying to hold it back..." Hajime bit on his grin. "Act like you didn't see anything, it will help you stay sane, trust me."

"How sinful of me on God's day!?" Issei rolled his eyes, flashing a not so friendly gesture towards his two friends. "They are jealous, their soft little puding skin could never handle an ethereal masterpiece like this!" He winked at Takahiro, sitting back to continue working on a huge pattern laid out all across his table. 

"So, what are you drawing?" Takahiro asked, as a new customer came into the shop for Hajime's appointment. He took the chance and sat down next to Issei who was more than happy to show him the sketch.

"A phoenix, going right on the customer's hip to cover up an old surgery scar" he explained with a much softer smile. He sounded so humble, and Takahiro could tell how much he respected the customer's story behind the choice. And like all three of them, he was also very passionate about his job.

"Are you planning to color it then? You have this small note here..." he asked curiously. Takahiro himself was sadly not much of an artist, at least not good at drawing, but he secretly liked to write poems and short stories. Of course not anymore, with the amount of work he had, but he now thought that Issei would make a perfectly written character of his, though.

"Depends on the customers. I don't always use colors for my works" he brushed his fingers around the pattern, "but she requested it specifically, to express the whole idea behind the revival from the flames."

It was hard to pay attention when Issei had such beautiful hands. Takahiro couldn't stop admiring the long, delicate fingers pointing out other small details in front of him.

"This is breathtaking, dude..." Takahiro had to blink twice to absorb all parts of the sketch. He wanted to see more, preferably everything, of Issei’s work .

"How would you even describe your style? It's totally different from Hajime's?"

"Oh, yeah, baby Hajime is rolling with realism, and he is on a whole new level already" Issei sighed, propping his chin up in his palm. "He is so good, he even rocks the Neo-Japanese style, that bastard" he clicked his tongue, pondering over the words a little. "I've been leaning towards the sketch work type, abstract and geometric shapes with unclear outlines, but I'm a fond of black watercolor, and somehow they mix perfectly, so it turned a bit surrealistic, I guess?" he trailed off with a proud smile. "I would describe it as _mine_..."

 

Takahiro may or may have not spent the entire time just staring at Issei openly, as he was finishing the sketch: his sharp jawline, brows furrowed from concentrating, tongue occasionally wetting his lips, and the subtle five o'clock shade that's been driving Takahiro crazy lately. He looked ridiculously handsome just sitting there drawing, and Takahiro could only imagine how sexy he must look when he actually did a tattoo on someone's skin. A shiver run down his spine, heat pooling up slowly in his lower belly. This was the first time he badly wanted to lay on that table next to Issei - and strangely, for at least two reasons now.

 

* * *

 

 

**A week ago - Full sleeve**

Having a balanced social life slowly changed Takahiro’s mindset too. He was much more optimistic in particular situations, and he handled work-stress better, forgetting about it for longer periods of time. Occasional one hours of extra sleep made a huge difference as well, but it was hard to turn off the computer at night, when he was binge-watching this new series Issei had recommended to him. Proper eating was also included on the new list of improvements, and he even managed to cut and color his hair again - brighter pink for a newly found brighter side of him.

Apparently it had also influenced his daily routine, since some of his coworkers boldly pointed out how refreshed he looked these days - obviously obsessing over the fact that Takahiro must have the nicest girlfriend supporting him like that. On other occasions, they teased him about the lack of concentration he had during working hours, so allegedly it affected more than what he had thought. But for both, he refused to answer with more than just a mysterious grin. Let them think whatever they want... Let them guess...

It's not like he himself was ready to acknowledge all those ridiculous, blushing teenager-type of moments he sometimes had. (It had nothing to do with the pictures he took with his friends at the Zilla last time. And more importantly it definitely had nothing to do with the fact that on a certain picture Issei had put an unnecessarily tight arm around him to squish their faces together.)

Only when a soft moan of Issei's name escaped into the darkness of his room in the middle of the night; goosebump painting his skin, sweat rolling from forehead, hand moving slow and steady between his legs did Takahiro realize how bad he actually had it for him.

 

"I'm telling you, it was the best gift I could possibly give myself, no joke!"

Takahiro had doubts that inking all over one's butt was great birthday gift, but he decided against pointing it out for Issei, since specific body part choices needed no further explanation among this community anymore. It was somehow amusing.

"Well, everyone celebrates the legendary twenty-fifth different ways, so, I would never judge you for your colorful _behind_..."

"Oh you better don't, this is one hella fine of an ass!" Issei declared, way too satisfied as he made a small dancing move in his seat.

Takahiro wanted to agree with him so badly. Instead he exhaled the smoke slowly, blowing small circles between the two of them. It was strangely pleasant to smoke in a moving car with your newly developed crush, classical 90's music giving the upbeat for every word just like in a movie. Oh, he was totally _not_ making up scenes in his head at all... Eventually, with a last long draw, he pulled up the window to turn on the aircon in the now boiling car.

"Say, lovely passenger on my left, why exactly did you choose to spend your precious day off with me, though? Not that I mind, of course, your voice is marvelous, dear!" Issei singsonged along to the rhythm from the radio and stole a quick glance at Takahiro, who almost swallowed his whole life at the question.

"What else would I do on a random sunny summer Wednesday, other than listening to your bullshitting on various colors, my dear!" he didn't miss a beat with the answer, but his intentions maybe weren't as subtle as he originally thought. He prayed hard for Issei not to recognize the hint of blush on his cheeks. Facing him after his shameless little night-activities was quite embarrassing, as it was still fresh in his mind. So were the goosebumps on his arms.

"I'm honored" Issei laughed and Takahiro fell for him again.

Saying it out loud in his head and embracing the feeling was not as troubling anymore. Instead it was almost comforting, and he didn't even question it. He hasn't felt like this for a long time and it made his heart beat twice and fast. It was awesome and words just came along with it.

"I think, I owe you an apology..." he started, purposely looking straight out the window to the road in front of them. He still could see it from the corner of his eyes, the full sleeve tattoo on his left that was inviting and tempting him with every small move; it was way too distracting to keep up a proper conversation with Issei ever since they left from the shop to get new supplies. Takahiro stopped counting the different shapes on his arm at one point during their ride now that he finally saw it all - damn the hot weather and the sinful black tank top. It was torturing, it was killing him - he honestly just wanted to trace the tattoo all over with his tongue.

"Hmh, you stole my line, I see..." Issei hummed almost politely, his eyes focused on the road, but muscles tensing up under the branches and clouds. "I felt terrible after ruining your night with that joke. I know it was nine million years ago, but I was too embarrassed to try to talk to you again. You seemed pretty pissed off and tense, so I chose my lonely beer and crippling self hate in the garden..."

That had Takahiro speechless for a good second.

"Uhm, what can I say..." he shifted in his seat uncomfortably.

"I've been trying to bring that up actually, but I guess I felt more relaxed going on with the flow like this?"

"But... I was such an asshole...?" Takahiro bit his lips, practically staring at Issei now, who had the advantage of avoiding his gaze. "Don't get me wrong, if it wasn’t for Hajime's constantly talking about you, I would probably have not even remembered your name, back then. I mean... I don't even remember your joke. It was probably not even as shitty as I interpreted it. I was frustrated about life and exams, I snapped at you very harshly, and I'm sorry..."  With the burden finally lifted from his chest, Takahiro exhaled loudly, leaning back in the seat.

"Apology accepted" Issei nodded with a sheepish smile. "At least now you know me better than that... I hope..."

'Cute' was a rare adjective he'd use to describe Issei, and 'pure' a very close second on the list, but here he just couldn't help it, and Takahiro almost giggled at his expression.

"I reflected and evolved since that night and I swear I'm up to no good" Issei finally stole a quick peak at him, fingers squeezing the wheel gently, and Takahiro wanted to feel the same grip on his thighs suddenly. Possibly in the backseat of the car. Raw, heated and fast.

"Just so you know, the reason why I'm here is because I pity you, obviously!" Takahiro added lightly, clearing his throat.

"Hmh, _obviously_..."

"Losing at rock-paper-scissors sucks, man. Imagine the others at Zilla, still laughing at you sweating through the long ride in this weather!"

"Zero fucks given, my friend, I have aircon and the best companion!" Issei winked at him, and for the rest of the ride, Takahiro shamelessly counted some more of those beautiful cherry petals on the strong arm.

 

That night, just before going to sleep, he received some (not so) surprising messages. They exchanged numbers days ago, so it was really time for Issei to take the first step, right?

 

_[Mattsun] 02:39_

Thks for taggin along today  
I like your hair btw ;)  
Dream about me  
Hands over blanket, bad boy

 

So he finally was playing dirty. Takahiro didn't mind, his busy fingers were nowhere near close to the top of the blanket anyway. Sending only a naughty emoticon as an answer, he slowly slipped an other hand between his legs, and couldn't help but burn up from the images of a naked, sweating Issei also thinking about him while getting off in his bed.

 

* * *

 

 

**Yesterday night - Traditional**

Once again, time was flying way too fast and summer arrived with the first heavy heat wave all over the country. Months had already passed by him in a blink of an eye and Takahiro was finally able to keep up with this speed, since he was the one setting it now. And it required only two Americanos and an extra Latte Macchiato a day.

He never actually liked his job, nor he planned to stay at this company forever, but somehow, he got promoted and made it one position higher in their team. He could give middle fingers to the reports wholeheartedly now, especially after getting two of the new interns under his care, which took the rest of the stress off his shoulders and made him more confident. 

Days were unbearably hot already and so was the suit on him all week long, with the disgusting humidity as the cherry on top; but June also meant Hajime's birthday, and he couldn't be more happier about celebrating with his best friend. So this Friday was for getting totally wasted.

Ever since he started hanging out with Hajime again, he should have remembered that mixing drinks was never a good idea. Tell that to the birthday boy though, who insisted on paying for at least three rounds at the beginning, and it all went downhill from the loud shouts of 'cheers!' there. Everyone thought about Takahiro as a friend, an actual part of this group of dorky artists, therefore staying sober was not an option he even considered, and especially not since Tooru's team won the Final and the whole team decided to join in.

Getting to know of Oikawa Tooru definitely wasn’t what he expected, and he would have never admitted that he actually had the time of his life at the chance, drinking shots from his belly with a cheering crowd around them. Tooru was outrageously handsome, more handsome than how he remembered him from university. His skin was soft and smelled like expensive cologne, and well, Takahiro was already tipsy anway. Drink never tasted sweeter under his tongue with all the sneakily added licks.

 

At some point, someone managed to drag him to the dancefloor (the only thing he was actually afraid of), but with the company of Kuroo and Koutarou it was less of a disaster than what he was anticipating. He was definitely not as good at flirting with his body as Tadashi, the youngest tattooist among them, nor he had shameless rhythm like the guy who went by the artist name Suga, and who literally was dry-humping two guys in the middle of the dancefloor now; but Takahiro definitely had better moves than some of Tooru's teammates and for now it was perfectly enough. The jelly shots kept the magic going on.

And well... Issei's leather pants too...

So somehow they ended up making out in the bathroom of the Night Owl between the smoke breaks; Takahiro couldn't really recall how or when he actually embraced the green signs between the provoking drags, but he didn't really have time to think about it as Issei was crashing him up onto the wall oh so sweetly and kissed him again, more passionately with every breath. His head was way too light to make proper decisions, more specifically about asking the guy if he would actually mind him using a little more tongue than just tasting leftover alcohol and tobacco on each other's lips.

"Mango jello..." Takahiro chuckled or hiccuped - he couldn't really distinguish at the moment, genuinely impressed by the fact that he could sense at all, sense more than just the heat in his abdomen. Issei was gentle with him, almost polite, despite the fact that moments ago they almost broke down the door. "...tastes sweeter with you?"

"You had enough drinks, better stop now, hm?" he purred into his ears. A shiver ran down Takahiro's spine as a soft moan got stuck between his lips. It was dangerous, it was perfect, it was everything he needed.

"Don’t you dare to stop!" Takahiro snapped at him, clearly missing the point.

"C'mon, let's go back, you promised me a dance..."

"Y’know I cannot dance... you saw me before..." he glared at Issei, desperately trying to pout at him with enough force to make him stop talking and continue kissing instead. The guy really took his sweet time with him.

"You had me there, not gonna lie..." Issei smirked against his skin, which brought back alerting memories about his embarrassing attempts at flirting on the dancefloor. Somehow it worked out, but not as good as his hidden shotgun kiss tricks out in the backyard. That definitely turned on the heat and pushed the right buttons.

"Just how are you so damn sober, huh?"

"I prefer smoking, but I'm drunk on your lips and sexy little moves, you beast!" Issei laughed, mocking, and pulling him closer, voice deep and raw, but touches soft and almost careful around his waist.

"You bet I am!" He had to lean closer to catch all the soft little noises Issei made. The heat of his body was very much thrilling, almost electrifying. "Still like my hair?"

"You look really gorgeous, but it's not just the hair… It was never just the hair..."

" _Smooth..._ " Takahiro purred, almost whispering the word. "And I like kissing you a lot, you know..."

"Well, I won’t know until you sob it into my mouth again..."

"Newsflash, you’re good. But stop lying, you already knew..." Takahiro choked on a small laugh, grabbing Issei’s hands to place them firmly on his butt, earning a small, playful slap in return. "I would so let you ink me up all over!"

"That's the sexiest thing you ever told me, except when you complimented my Hogwarts shorts" Issei murmured against his lips, words swallowed by tiny kisses before he trailed a line down to Takahiro's neck, sucking hard on the glitter-covered skin there and rolling his hips forward teasing.

That was all it took.

Blame it on his nonexistent love life, because it was not his style at all, but the speed with which Takahiro turned them around to drop down to his knees was almost embarrassing right there. Those pants just got on his nerves so much it physically hurt to stay composed, as he ripped open the rest of the shirt, yanked it out hard from the damn leather pants and pushed it out of his way to slide his hands around Issei's waist. His movements were desperate, almost rough, but whatever he wanted to do next was replaced by a surprised gasp as he blinked hard at the tattoo in front if his eyes. For a second he completely forgot where they were heading to as he stared at the sight in front of him. Nevermind the stupid happy trail; all the complex shapes and detailed, sharp black lines marking the soft skin on both sides of Issei's hips and downwards, all the way down, disappearing into his pants were _breathtaking_. It was mesmerizing and it blinded him for a second, making him feel almost like he was falling under a tricky spell. Takahiro couldn't help but swallow hard.

"Tsk, and you haven't even seen the one on my shoulder..." Issei groaned first, followed immediately by an amazed sigh as he leaned back against the wall of the small stall. He lowered his gaze and ran his fingers through Takahiro's hair. "Uhm, irrelevant information, but for my final project, I was practicing traditional tattooing.” He traced around Takahiro's lips affectionately.

“I received it as a reward for not failing hundred percent and dishonoring the sacred ancient patterns. It hurt like a bitch, tho..."

"Holy shit, it's..." _Stunning, splendid, radiant, dazzling_. Takahiro panted, words failing him at the worst moment of course. He let his actions speak instead. His nails marked hungrily at both sides of the art, and his face was burning up as he run a finger around Issei's belly, before leaning in to place a butterfly kiss along with it. His blood was boiling from the intense eyecontact, and his heart was racing so fast he was already seeing stars.

But then they both froze before Takahiro could actually finish opening his fly.

One more obscene moan came from the cabin next to them - they could hear it clearly even with the music loud outside and the echoing bass through the stalls. Even that first moan was hard to ignore, let alone the following other noises that made it way too obvious what was going on one stall over. Even as shitfaced as Takahiro got himself, he still managed to recognize Hajime's muffled voice that choked on Tooru's name again. And Issei seemed to recognize it as well, judging by the way his eyes widened in horror as he pulled Takahiro up from the floor, already tugging his pants back on.

Not even two seconds later they were already out of the bathroom.

"Never ev-"

"No, never again...!"

"Jesuslord, Hajime, really, in the fuckin’ toilet?" Issei clawed at his face, fixing his loose shirt to cover himself not so subtly. He quickly realised the irony of the situation. "You gotta use it at the right time against him!" The evil snort he gave strangely turned Takahiro on. 

"I just heard my best friend having sex and whatever you say, I need more shots... like, now!" Takahiro demanded, leaning in to kiss Issei, just barely missing the corner of his lips. It was way sweeter compared to how their bodies crushed against each other a little while ago, and all bittersweet disappointment flew out of his head.

The room shifted a little around him, maybe because of the alcohol or maybe because of something else, but it somehow worked out. Everything was working out perfectly for them.

 

* * *

 

 

**Saturday { 3:58 PM }**

It took him a good half an hour to actually stop the unholy spinning of the room, but Takahiro was still making occasional displeased noises, and he still had no coffee to the rescue. Yesterday's events were unclear after the bathroom encounter, and he had a good bet on the shots for clearing his memory about the rest of the party. At some point teleporting must have happened, otherwise, how on Earth they would have ended up in the Zilla for the... freshly made tattoo... on his waist. It was hurting under his touch, but the sight was more terrifying than the actual pain, and he reached out for his phone finally.

_“You got exactly five minutes to drag your ass here”_ was all his message. It was read almost right after he hit send, and Takahiro laid back down on the kitchen counter to gather all his strength. Despite the ever so distracting tingling on his lips, he was so ready to punch Issei in his stupid face. Obviously he was the one who let it happen, so he was the one who had to take responsibility for it.

 

**{ 4:17 PM }**

"Hey..."

"Don't _hey_ at me, I've told you five minutes..." Takahiro groaned, but he let Issei into his apartment, biting down on his tongue hard not to scream at him right now.

"Here you go..." Issei passed him a cup of coffe. "I figured you'd probably need this."

"That won't do, I'm nowhere near done with you yet!"

"How are you?" Issei asked, lining his shoes next to the others as he stepped into the living room. His expression hid his emotions well, but a hint of a small smile played around the corner of his lips.

"What do _you_ think?" Takahiro snapped and spun around to gesture desperately at the tattoo. "Any fucking explanation?!" he glared back, hard, over his shoulders.

"Well..." Issei chose the closest armchair, eyebrows skipping oh so innocently.

Takahiro threw a pillow at him.

"The fuck were you thinking, Issei!? How could you let me tattoo _Sexy Beast_ on my waist? What... what is wrong with you, seriously?" His voice cracked on the words, going higher pitched at every breath and Takahiro was practically shouting at him towards the end. "Is this some kind of punishment? Is it the part of your plan!? Just what the..?!"

"...fuck?" Issei proposed, and now he was clearly holding back a grin. "Are you finished?"

"Absolutely not!" Takahiro groaned and flopped down to the couch, holding his head with both hands. "I cannot believe I got so wasted  and that you let me actually do this..."

"You designed it yourself, I was pretty impressed..." Issei trailed off. "I've never seen such a perfectly drawn capital b ever in my life, if it helps"

"God damn it, just kick me where it hurts, really..." Takahiro was getting frustrated again.

"I was unable to turn down such _irresistible_ request, you know I'm all for my client's _desire_ " even though Issei looked genuinely apologetic, his words gave him away, and he couldn't hold up the act any longer.

Takahiro cried out, confused and almost hurt as the other boy practically teared up from laughing at him for long seconds.

"Did you seriously think I would let you get a tattoo that batshit drunk? What kind of _beast_ do you think I am?" Issei was still cracking up, barely making out proper words in between fits of laughter.

"Huh?" Takahiro’s jaw dropped to the floor, confused. "I don't get it..."

"Airbrush, you smartass...", Issei sat next to him, deliberately not leaning in to kiss him yet. Instead he just patted Takahiro’s thighs and purposely forgot his hands there.

"By airbrush... you mean...?" word were still failing Takahiro, but the story was slowly getting all the lost pieces back together. "It's not real?"

"It's real until it fades away. I thought you were paying attention during our _precious_ car ride, but I see how are we now..." he poked Takahiro in the forehead. "The amount of alcohol you've had would make it impossible to tattoo you for at least two or three days, my friend. Moreover, consent is sexy, never forget that."

"Would you please enlighten me what the fuck actually happened then?" Takahiro asked, blinking twice, still bewildered. He was desperately searching for memories between the blackouts in his mind. How could he possibly forget something like this?

"Well, first of all, the one with A Plan was you all along, you, who had shots off Keiji to make me _jealous_..." Issei’s fingers drew a small circle around his knee. "And then we made out on the dancefloor, with your gloriously sinful moves, so probably that's how you managed to convince me to go back to the Zilla, because I'm weak for such an intense hips-game."

"Oh my God..."

 "So we kind of made out more on my table, with you constantly reminding me of how sexy I am, thank you by the way, but I'm nowhere near close to you..."

"I beg to differ..." Takahiro finally let himself relax under the comforting touch.

 "And uhm..." Issei gulped a little before continuing. "As a way of giving your consent to _'inking you the fuck up'_ you reached down my pants. I think you were missing my point there."

"Oh..."

"Yeah, that was a very big _oh_..." Issei hummed, clearly recalling the memory, because his fingers trembled a little on his leg. "You were so persistent about the tattoo I had to trick you this way, and also because you complained about the lack of noise as well I actually had to turn on one of my machines."

"So drunk me is straightforward, and not takin' any shit, I see..." Takahiro rolled his eyes, but he glanced up to Issei with an apologetic smile. "How come it hurts like hell? Did we also... ? You know..."

"Actually, you tried to seduce me after I finished, but then you fell down from my table, while trying to take down the rest of your pants..."

"At least I did it gracefully!" Takahiro's face was warming up from embarrasement.

"Yeah you were very graceful, I have to admit..."

"You also took me home...?" Takahiro asked instead, the soft silence suddenly turned way overwhelming for proper thinking. "I'm surprised I remembered my own address."

"Yeah, considering that you fell asleep on the way for a good minute or so..." Issei laughed and shifted even closer to him. "I was afraid you would hurt yourself more in the shop or that you would fall asleep so deep I could never go home."

"Such a gentleman" Takahiro glanced at him, and then down to the hand on his thighs. He didn't have to hold back anymore, there was no point. He slowly reached out to link their fingers and never felt better in his life. "So neither is my tattoo is real nor did we have sex here, hm?"

"Trust me, you were on fire once I took you home, but you fell asleep in like two seconds the moment you bumped into the couch. I figured you will be fine once you sleep it off."

Even though this part got erased from his memory, Takahiro could imagine the heat between them. Issei was clearly blushing now, and that was the cutest expression Takahiro has ever seen on him.

"Hmh, interesting..." he added carefully. "Well that was all very awkward and I'm sorry you had to see me like that", Takahiro chuckled in conclusion, palm sweating under the touch, but Issei squeezed his fingers a bit stronger as he leant closer.

"Awkward would be me not asking you out on a date finally..." he murmured into his ears and kissed Takahiro's cheek softly. "Or you not asking me out, to make up for all the shit you did!"

"And here I thought I fell for a romantic", Takahiro glared at him, but quickly got cut off with an even softer kiss on his lips, which made him melt into the couch.

"Everything's about right timing!" Issei's eyes were practically sparkling, but Takahiro still managed to read between the mischievous sparks.

"What are the odds..." Takahiro's grin widened, but he had no objection to the idea that was clearly forming in both of their heads.

"Not to sound too inappropriate, but imagine Hajime's face if he had found us there, _desecrating_ his precious shop, just right after its anniversary and stuff..."

"He would probably have murdered us right on the spot..." Takahiro added with a similarly smug expression.

They were also both clearly considering to risk their luck.

"So would you come on a date with me?" Takahiro finally asked and his heart was skipping at least two beats for that bright smile he got in return.

"I thought you would never ask!" Issei brushed their lips together playfully. He tasted like tobacco and coffee, but also something even more exciting than just those two. "I have a customer from three, that takes forever, so I'll pick you up around seven."

 

His living room fell annoyingly silent after Issei left - it was almost hard to say goodbye -, but the innocent cuddling and all the laughing somehow made up for it. Spending hours and hours of thinking about everything that's happened, Takahiro finally managed to stop the pointless rolling around on the couch, not to mention the dreamy sighing and silly smiling he didn't even realise he’d been doing. He turned on the computer to answer some emails, but working was almost impossible when all he could think about was Matsukawa Issei and the very, might he say _the most_ , ridiculous "tattoo" in history. His body was still aching all over, but it just made his grin even wider. He was happy, he was on cloud nine; he felt like conquering the whole world for the first time in a while.

Later that night, just as he was about to go to bed to properly sleep off the rest of the hangover for the big date tomorrow, he also received some very much anticipated messages.

 

_[Mattsun] 23:44_

Don't you dare have a hangover at me tomorrow  
Sleep tight  
Dream about me ;)  
Hands under blanket, bad boy

 

And Takahiro didn't mind, not the slightest bit did he regret answering back with a shamelessly dirty text this time, as his hand was nowhere near close to the top of the blanket anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for sticking around until the End Notes! Feel free to scream at me on [[tumblr](https://cinnamonsnow.tumblr.com)], if you enjoyed the story! I have tons of headcanons left, unwritten, ready to be unleashed (♡´艸`) Not to mention all the OSTs and fanart-inspirations too. I'm kind of planning to translate my drabbles into English as well! I blame matsuhana for everything... 
> 
> Also, if you are interested about the topic: I recommend [[this](https://youtu.be/lzjwc6uo6rE)] short documentary about the real situation of tattoo shops/tattooists in Japan! It literally came out after I finished writing this story, and it was very interesting to watch.


End file.
